


By Hand

by Draycevixen



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/pseuds/Draycevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I offered to write 12 Advent fics for mates. </p><p>SC_fossil prompted with: <i>Why is Cowley giving Doyle a pressie and not any other agent?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LilyK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/gifts).



"Drink up lads, it's Doyle's round!" 

Ray had only just walked through the door of the crowded pub and the rest of the squad were already three sheets to the wind, but he rounded up their empty glasses without complaint. 

"And make mine a double!" 

Ray responded to Anson's yelled comment with a two fingered salute but he returned from the bar with a double whisky for everyone, weaving his way expertly through the Christmas Eve throng with his overloaded tray. 

 

He was relieved to see Ray, not altogether sure he'd join them which would have meant he'd have had to go looking for him. Ray Doyle with a strop on wasn't anything a sane man wanted to face but a promise was a promise and he liked to keep his. 

_"Make sure he's not alone. He thinks too bloody much for his own good."_

 

The squad had its own traditions and raising a glass or five to absent friends on Christmas Eve was one of them right along with celebrating surviving another year. Anson plied them with cigars, Susan told the filthiest jokes, as always, and Betty invited along the girls from the typing pool. 

It was like every other year, only it wasn't, not really. Ray kept nursing the same glass of whisky, glancing up at the pub door every time it swung open, unable to mask his disappointment every time a stranger walked through it. It beggared belief that he might still have hope but then this was Ray Doyle so anything was possible. 

 

And then the pub door swung open again and as Ray jumped to his feet he realized he'd been wrong. It was Cowley Ray had been waiting for. 

"Can I get you a drink, Sir?"

"Thank you, Doyle, but I think this is my round." 

The Cow actually smiled as the squad burst into a round of applause. He went to the bar, Ray trailing along in his wake. 

He glanced up a time or two to look over at the bar where Cowley waited patiently to be served, nodding occasionally as Ray hunched in towards him speaking rapidly. 

When they returned with the drinks, Cowley toasted to absent friends and they all drained their glasses. 

 

The whisky took its toll and what with Mary from the typing pool finally warming up to him after playing hard to get for three months, he'd lost track of Cowley and Ray. 

At least until Anson's elbow dug him in the ribs. "Look at that."

Cowley was standing near the pub door, one hand on Ray's shoulder. As they watched, Cowley pulled an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over to Ray who barely glanced at it and then looked again more closely. He hadn't seen Ray smile in months but he was beaming as Cowley spoke to him. Ray actually threw his arms around Cowley briefly, like they were best friends or something, and then he took off out the pub like it was on fire. 

"What the hell was that about, Murph?"

"Don't ask me, Anson, I only got a glass of whisky from the Cow, same as you." 

He had a bloody good idea though and raised his own silent toast.


	2. Chapter 2

"All right, all right, I'm coming, keep your hair on."

He stopped knocking on the flat's door. 

"Who is it?" 

"Bodie, it's me. Let me in."

He could hear muffled cursing from behind the door. "Go away, Doyle."

"Can't. I've got a message from Cowley."

"What is it?"

He leaned against the door, willing Bodie to open it, thinking he could kick it in if necessary. "He wrote it down."

"Then slide it under the door."

He glanced down at the envelope in his hand. "It wouldn't fit."

More muffled cursing was followed by the distinctive sound of the door chain going on before the door inched open. "Pass it through."

"For christssake." He pulled back and then smashed his shoulder into the door. The chain gave way and he tumbled into the flat before he managed to regain his feet and shut the door firmly behind himself.

Bodie glared at him. At least he believed it was Bodie hidden somewhere behind the unfamiliar long hair and beard. 

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume?"

Bodie leaned heavily on his walking stick but the way his fingers were flexing he knew Bodie was considering striking him with it. "The message?"

"Aren't you going to ask me in?"

Bodie stood his ground and Ray handed over the envelope. 

Bodie stared down at it for a moment. "This looks like a Christmas card."

"Well you know how Cowley is, always trying to save money and stamps cost a lot nowadays so he asked me to hand deliver it."

"Bugger off, Doyle." 

"Not until I've said my piece." 

Bodie's fingers were flexing again.

"Give me five minutes. For old time's sake?"

Bodie glowered at him but turned on his heel and limped back down the hallway. 

 

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting exactly but it hadn't been a cosy living room with a fire burning in the fireplace, a decorated Christmas tree, strings of Christmas cards draped across the walls and tinsel wrapped around the picture frames and windows. Bodie lifted a woman's red cardigan out of an armchair and gestured for him to sit and he took the direction out of shock as much as anything. 

It had been over ten months since he'd last seen Bodie but it had never occurred to him Bodie might have found someone else in the meantime. Not that it changed what he'd come to say. He wasn't giving up without a fight. "Are we alone?"

"My flatmate and his girlfriend are away until New Year's."

He felt stupidly relieved to have the cardigan's owner identified. 

"But you've still only got five minutes, Doyle. Tick tock."

Five minutes, right. He better get straight to the point. "Why d'you leave?"

Bodie rubbed his leg. "I wasn't ever going to make it back on the squad."

"Cowley would have given you another job." So much for getting to the point. 

"He did."

"What?"

"I'm Cowley's liaison to MI5 and MI6."

"The old bastard never said a word to me."

"Why would he?" Bodie glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Two minutes."

The time for subtlety was gone. "Why did you leave me?"

"C'mon, Doyle. We were having sex but you made it clear you didn't want to get involved beyond that. Then I got shot getting between you and Mulligan and I'm supposed to believe you just happened to have a change of heart, after I was invalided out? You and your fucking martyr complex."

"Who said I didn't want to get involved?"

"I told you I loved you and you had nothing to say, just left me standing there. And then you asked Cowley for the Glasgow obbo so you'd have a reason to stay away from the hospital." Bodie glanced over at the clock again. "Time's up. See yourself out, there's a good lad."

Ray jumped to his feet and moved in as close to Bodie as he dared while he was still holding the walking stick. 

"Here's how I remember it. You backed me up against a wall, practically vibrating with the self-control it was taking you not to punch me in the face, when you ground out 'why I had to fall for you I'll never know, you miserable bastard.' I'm sorry that touching sentiment didn't inspire me to write you sonnets in return. As to Glasgow, I asked Cowley for it that same night, I thought a little time and distance between us would be a good idea before we fucked it all up. How was I to know you'd get shot the next day? Once we knew you weren't going to die, Cowley wouldn't let me back out of the obbo without quitting CI5. I thought you'd be coming back, so I had to keep my job. But when I got back from Glasgow you'd already done a runner and I've been looking for you ever since to tell you the truth."

"To tell me what?" 

"That the feeling's mutual, it always was." He reached out slowly to cradle Bodie's cheek. "If you still feel the same."

"Hardly a sonnet, Ray, but yeah I think I always will." Bodie wasn't quite meeting his eyes. "But I'm not the same man you knew."

He thought about reassuring Bodie but it had never worked that way between them before and now wasn't the time to start. Through injury and setbacks they'd goaded each other along, always assuming the best possible outcome, and if he changed the game rules now Bodie might start thinking again about Ray's supposed martyr complex and they couldn't afford that. 

"Well, the beard's certainly different but I'll get used to it if I have to." 

Kissing Bodie again was like coming home. He didn't stop until he felt Bodie trembling under his hands. 

"Bodie?"

"I've been on my feet too long." 

"Then we better get you off them as soon as possible."

There it was, Bodie's patented shit eating grin he'd worried he'd never see again. And that's when he knew they were going to be all right.


End file.
